Baker Street Explosion
by EliHarmonyVolkes
Summary: Based off the scene in 'The Blind Banker' when there is a supposed gas leak in Baker Street however John runs off before the news report is completed.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ok so i wrote this fic and had it betaed. The first chapter is unbetaed and the second chapter is the betaed version. Obviously the second is better but I was trying out a new way of structuring sentences and I'd love to hear any thoughts on what works and what doesn't? Thanks and enjoy reading!

* * *

Five Dead in Baker Street Explosion

"And now we come to our main news story. Early this morning, an explosion thought to have been caused by a gas leak turned several buildings to rubble and so far, five bodies have been found. We are now handing over to Jason, live at-"

John ran out of the room before the report could finish, grabbing his coat but not wanting to waste time putting it on. Emotions engulfed him. He tried to concentrate on getting to Baker Street. He tried not to let his mind think. But it didn't work and his imagination ran wild with images of Sherlock being pulled out of a building with those beautiful eyes of his. Lifeless. And tears streamed out of John's eyes because dammit he was in love with Sherlock Holmes and now. It was too late.

And his feet were still running and running and running but he just wanted to. Stop. Because Sherlock was probably dead and John regretted so much and he'd never be able to see him. Again. And there'd be no more solving cases and no more chasing criminals. Together. And no more laughing at bad TV and no more brilliant deductions and just. No more. And then he was at Baker Street and searching and searching and searching and where was he and he was looking for that mop of curls through blurry eyes because he was. Still crying. And there was no sign and he was sobbing but then he was shouting and screaming his throat raw for Sherlock Holmes for. His Sherlock. And everyone asked what was wrong and no-one could understand and none of them were Sherlock and he. Wasn't there.

"John. Are you OK?" came a deep voice from behind him. It was Sherlock, asking if he was alright. Sherlock, who never cared about anyone else, actually asking if he was alright. John didn't want to live his life in denial anymore. He turned around and kissed his detective, tears turning into those of happiness and not caring who saw because he loved this man and Sherlock Holmes was alive and that was all that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

Five Dead in Baker Street Explosion

"And now we come to our main news story. Early this morning, an explosion thought to have been caused by a gas leak turned several buildings to rubble and so far, five bodies have been found. We are now handing over to Jason, live at-"

John ran out of the room before the report could finish, grabbing his coat but not wanting to waste time putting it on. Emotions engulfed him. He tried to concentrate on getting to Baker Street. He tried not to let his mind think. But it didn't work and his imagination ran wild with images of Sherlock being pulled out of a building with those beautiful eyes of his. Lifeless. And tears streamed out of John's eyes because dammit he was in love with Sherlock Holmes and now…it was too late.

His feet pounded the ground as he ran towards the site of the explosion, yet he wanted to stop. Sherlock was probably dead and seeing him with no life in his body would kill John. All of the times they nearly had; all of those times John had regretted not taking the risk. After all, ignorance is bliss.

John began to think of life after Sherlock. There'd be no more solving cases and no more chasing criminals together. No more laughing at bad TV and no more brilliant deductions. Just no more.

It wasn't long before he reached Baker Street. The police already had the scene taped so none of the gasping onlookers could interfere with the rescue mission. John ignored the tape and the precautions ahead of him. No-one noticed the frantic doctor searching for the mop of curls and proud face. His blurry sight hindered his ability to move forward. He tripped over a piece of rabble and fell face-first onto the broken tarmac. The tears flowed down his cheeks as he realised how useless he was. With the last of his energy left shouting and screaming his throat raw for Sherlock Holmes. _His_ Sherlock Holmes. Officers tried to get answers from him, but his voice only sounded grunts. Only those from the force who knew John could attempt to find Sherlock, but even they had no clue where to find him. They finally pried John off of the ground to a nearby ambulance.

"John? Are you OK?" came a deep voice from his left. Sherlock appeared next to him with the same impeccable dress he always wore. Not even a flake of ash touched his head.

John jolted out of his shock. Sherlock was there. He was alive. What is more, he was more worried about John than whatever explosion hit the apartment block.

Tears continued to flow down his face. This time, though, they were out of happiness rather than sorrow. John flung his arms around Sherlock's neck and squeezed hard.

"Please, never scare me like that again." John's voice was muffled by the blue scarf but Sherlock heard it well enough.

John pulled himself back, hands still attached on the detective's shoulders. Sherlock's hands clasped themselves on John's face; one thumb wiped away the tears that fell down his cheeks.

At that moment, John knew that if he never said it then, then he would never say it ever. He held Sherlock's gaze and barely whispered:

"I love you, Sherlock."

John took the risk he needed to and leaned in for the kiss. Sherlock responded with the same intensity and heat as the doctor. Denial is not worth living, not for Sherlock or for John.

Both were locked in this gentle embrace created a bubble of pure bliss. John did not care who saw because Sherlock Holmes was alive, and, what is more, he loved John. After all, that what really mattered.


End file.
